Page 91 of Breakaway Hearts

Chapter31

Reese

Fuck, this suspension is killing me.

I can’t go to practice, can’t even show up at the arena. I can’t do anything, which is why I’m sitting on the couch in the middle of the afternoon, my feet itching to slide into a pair of skates.

The TV is on in the background, but I’ve been reading one of the books Callie lent me to pass the time. I’ve taken to buying her new books off of her TBR list, and she lends me ones she’s already finished. It’s a perfect system, and I fucking love watching her face light up as she flips through the pages of a new book.

Reading helps a little, and I’m already surprisingly invested in the two main characters and whether or not they’ll end up together… but my mind keeps drifting to the practice I know my teammates are having right now. They’ll probably be finishing up soon, actually, and I can just imagine Dunaway calling out a few last drills before he releases everyone for the day.

The fine I got slapped with was a pain in the ass, but honestly, the disappointed look on Dunaway’s face was worse than the money I had to pay. Almost worse than the suspension itself. I need to prove to Coach that I’m serious about my NHL career. I’m serious about making my mistakes right and about being an asset to the team instead of a liability. We’ve been having a good season—a great season, actually—and if my suspension affects our ability to reach the playoffs, I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive myself.

My phone pings with a message several minutes later, and I slip the bookmark into the book to keep my place, then set it aside and grab my cell.

NOAH: Hey, man. Just wanted to check in. How you doing?

They must’ve just wrapped up practice. Gratitude fills my chest at the thought that the first thing Noah did after getting off the ice was text me.

ME: I’m okay. Been binge reading romance novels. Like one does when they’re suspended.

He sends back a couple of shocked face emojis and then a smirking one.

NOAH: Whatever gets you through this. How’s Callie holding up? That whole thing the other night was pretty ugly.

ME: Yeah, I know. She’s okay. She feels bad I got suspended, but I told her not to worry about it. That fucker deserved it, and I’m not sorry.

ME: I *am* sorry I won’t be there to play with you guys tomorrow, though.

NOAH: Yeah, we are too. We’ll miss you on the ice.

I wince, my gut twisting. Noah doesn’t seem pissed at me, but I know the whole team must be frustrated by my absence. It’ll affect the three games they play without me, and that’s not even my ego talking. Sure, I’m a good player, but it’s more than that. We’re ateam, and we spend countless hours practicing together as a team. Our skills and abilities fit together like pieces of a puzzle, and when one of those pieces is missing, everyone feels it.

ME: I’ll be rooting you on from here. Kick the Thunder’s asses for me, will you?

NOAH: You got it.

I set my phone aside and pick up my book again. I’m about to bring it into the kitchen with me so I can read while I get some pasta cooking, but before I can take a step, my phone chimes again, this time with a phone call.

I don’t recognize the number, but I mute the TV and swipe across the screen to answer it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Reese.”

Sienna’s lyrical voice comes through the phone. I pull it away from my ear, glancing at the screen again, and realize she must be calling from the Aces’ offices, which is why the number isn’t programmed into my phone.

“Hey.” I settle back down on the couch. If she’s calling from the offices, I already know what this is about.

“How are you doing after the other night?” she asks. “That was… intense.”

“Yeah.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I know.”

“We had a meeting today, and I volunteered to be the one to call you,” she tells me. “We need to go over our team’s and the NHL’s rules and regulations regarding suspensions and violent acts committed during games.”

“Right.” I roll my eyes. The rules are there for a reason, and I get that. But I know she’s about to unload a lot of corporate jargon on me.

“I’ll make it quick,” she adds, a note of sympathy coming into her voice. Then she dives in, outlining every aspect of the NHL’s policy on unsportsmanlike behavior and what the consequences could be for another infraction. I tap my foot on the floor as I listen, staring at the muted TV without really seeing it.

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